Emelia "Lark" Benson's life was normal, easy, and full of love. Until one day, it wasn't.
Taken from her foster family and whisked away to another country, she loses the four people that she knew would always be there for her. Colt, Aidan, Luka, a...
I stepped out of my apartment and tried to resist the urge to look over my shoulder. The early morning September air was chilly but had the promise of a warm day ahead. I tucked my key into the hidden pocket of my backpack and made my way to the subway station. Most people hated how crowded the subway was. I reveled in it. Being lost in the crowd gave me a sense of safety and ambiguity. No one was looking at me because there were too many people to notice.
I stepped out of the station and looked around at my surroundings. New York City. A place that 8 million people call home, and now I'm one of them. As I pass by bodega's, coffee shops, and restaurants the reality of my situation starts to hit me. For the first time in 15 years, I'm on my own, and for the first time in almost ten years, I'm free. No more sleeping on the floor of a cold basement, no more fists, and knives. No more torture and no more pain. I notice the faces of the people I pass by are getting blurry, and I blink quickly to stop the tears that are threatening to spill over.
You are not in that place anymore, they are in jail. You have control of your life now.
I repeat those words to myself as I steel myself for the day ahead. It's my first day at NYU and my skin is almost vibrating with the possibilities. I always wanted to live in New York City and go to school here.
I wish I was doing this with them.
The thought creeps into my head before I can stop and I feel my heart sink a little. No matter how hard I try to forget them I can't. Even though they probably forgot about me or blame me for what happened, I know I will always carry them with me. When I was taken, my life was hell. Some days the only thing keeping me going was the memories I shared with them. That was why I got a tattoo of a Lark bird on my inner wrist. I never knew why they called me that, but the memory of their affection was the driving force behind getting that image permanently on my body. It was one of the first things I did after I finally got settled into my studio apartment a few weeks ago.
I finally made my way onto campus and took in my surroundings. The beautiful buildings and landscaping greeting me with open arms and the promise of something I thought I'd never get: a future.
My first class of the day was Creative Writing 101 with Dr. Cartwright. When I finally found the building my classroom was in, I took a deep breath before walking in. I was ready for this. Ready to leave the past in the past and try to make something good for myself. I stepped inside and went in search of my classroom. It was on the first floor so I only had to walk around the corner. When I stepped inside the large lecture hall I knew I should have gotten here earlier. Many seats had already filled up and the only seats left were in the first four rows. I must have been standing at the front of the room for too long because someone cleared their throat in front of me to get my attention.
